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Write a F***ing Poem
Get up and brush your f***ing teeth
What is wrong with you?
You’re just going to let them rot away like the rest of you
Your muscles ache from lack of use
Your skin yearns for the touch of the sun
You only take frequent showers because you need something to warm you
Get some friends
But don’t bother talking to them
They’re too good for you
Or them
They hate you
Don’t be a sl*t
Constantly craving the most intimate form of physical contact
To fill a void of affection and human interaction
You’re wasting your life
Get a goddamn hobby
Do something
Write a f***ing poem
You used to be so creative
So alive
What happened to you?
You used to be so bold
Adventurous
Ambitious
Now you do the same thing every day
Muddle through classes with no real goal for the future
And the only thing you consistently feel is the lingering dread in the pit of your stomach that you’re not going to amount to anything
Wake up
You’ve already slept for twelve hours
And don’t forget to take the medication that stopped working a few months ago
Don’t forget to eat something
But not too much
Just enough to keep you alive
Clean something
That gives a sense of productivity
And order
Two things you desperately need
And you can scrub your bathroom from top to bottom every two days
Yet you can’t find it in yourself to Brush your f***ing teeth?
What is wrong with you?
And you can get drunk and have sex on weeknights but you can’t make a friend?
What is wrong with you?
And you can shower and change clothes but only to go straight back to sleep?
What is wrong with you?
Get a hobby
Get a life
Get a friend
Write a F***ing poem,
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